


With Interest

by PRabbit



Category: OFF (Game)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-25
Updated: 2013-05-25
Packaged: 2017-12-12 21:50:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/816435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PRabbit/pseuds/PRabbit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zacharie does not like when people steal from him, but he's willing to forgive for a nice favor or two.</p>
            </blockquote>





	With Interest

Color drained from the world. Every surface grew dull in a slow precession towards inevitability. It was as if he could hear the progress; the thwack of a base ball bat against intangible flesh until each chamber lay empty for better or for worse. Best not to get involved, unless there was a profit to be made. Soon all would be a white plane of gray shades to hide the pile of dead.

Zacharie chuckled to himself when he heard the expected footsteps. Color still remained which could only mean the poor sod found himself stuck or in need of supplies. A service he was more than happy to provide for reasonable prices. Nothing like being helpful. Pack stashed behind the counter he hopped off to greet his best customer.

“Well, don’t you look roughed up. Good thing you came to the right place.”

A stoned face glared down at him as the Batter walked in. Nothing new, of course. The enigmatic man never looked happy or sad, just determined. A blank face with a pocket full of credits.

“You.”

A blunt force of a voice in addition to already solemn features. Yet this sounded different: emotion gave a dull roar from just one word. Zach took notice but managed to convince himself to shove it off to the stress of battle. He always enjoyed seeing the warrior; a tall, powerful being he could wind his finger around or simply marvel as a masked voyeur. 

“Heh heh heh. Yes, me! I am here to help, friend. Got a fresh stock for you to choose from.”

The Batter lifted his weapon up to it pointed right at Zach’s head. He always enjoyed seeing the warrior; a tall, powerful being he could wind his finger around or simply marvel as a masked voyeur. Though taking a few cautionary steps back, the shop keeper stood his ground.

“What? You want a new bat?” He held his hands up, not wanting to instigate. The blood stained bat jutted under his chin. “You know I always have the best equipment.”

“You are the last one.”

Anger. That was the emotion. And little else with it. Zach himself felt fear. He had grown so comfortable with the man he left himself unguarded physically, save for his silver tongue.

“Yes. I am the last one.” In one motion he grabbed the end of the bat and pushed it away, giving him an opening to step to the side. Still the Batter towered, weapon ready. “I was also the last one in the previous zone, remember? And the one before that.” As Zach’s words danced his legs followed, moving him closer to the counter and away from the wall. “Always here to sell what you need.”

Before reaching the counter the bat shot back out, knocking his arm away and shepherding him back. 

“There are no others.” The striped uniform dripped with blood. His much less than whatever else he had been pummeling to death. “I must purify this zone.”

He had seen the Batter remain stoic before now, so to witness teeth bared and hard breathing came as a mild shock. Muscles tensed, the fingers on the bat handle clenched down hard ready to swing. From under the hat came a long exhale. He couldn’t be that stupid.

“I must purify you.”

Zacharie knew from the tension that no more words would help and opted instead to duck. The bat flew just over his head, impacting the wall beside the two with a deafening slam. Glancing up, Zach stared at the warped surface, glad that his skull had not been apart of the equation. Much to his dismay it soon did.

Standing tall, the Batter had a wide stance but understood that weakness. As Zacharie dove between his legs he simply turned and swung again. The resulting crack left the shop keeper stunned on the floor. Blood trickled away between limp hands.

The Batter scoffed at such an easy victory. With the end of his weapon he nudged the back of the body under him. He failed to notice fingers tensing. The arm struck first, sweeping long before ramming into the Batter’s knee. Zach took the resulting opening as a chance to get away. He rolled as far as he could before rising to his feet. By then the Batter had recovered, bat up and ready, a fury to unleash upon his humble salesman.

“My friend, you are making a grave mistake.”

Zacharie’s voice reflected no stress, only the same confident tone he always held. The Batter, on the other hand, fumed, but not out of anger or even rage. His true self churned under his calm, serious appearance, only coming out in the near growl his words had taken on.

“I don’t make mistakes.”

Again the bat lashed out but its target had learned from the last encounter. By the time it hit the wall again, Zach had forced himself past his attacker and over the counter. Hands reaches inside his pack, pulling out a long package wrapped in cloth and string. The object flew across the room, knocked away by the Batter now looming on the counter top. Another hit clubbed Zacharie straight in the chest knocking out his breath. Struggling to get back up he crawled away, waiting for another opening to utilize. It came when the Batter leapt at him, aiming the bat as his still bleeding head. 

A skilled doge but that was expected. The kick straight to the face was not. The Batter was left reeling as Zacharie ran full on now, picking up the satchel on the way out of the back door. He didn’t look back until far down and around several alleys into areas not even the Elsen traveled. A quick peek. Either the Batter had fell far behind or failed the keep up the chase. Zach ducked into a small closet and pressed himself against the wall. Silence. No foot steps, nothing. 

Injured, the shop keeper finally allowed himself to breathe. His body sunk till he sat on the floor in the dark with only his precious item. The Batter was no fool. He’d search his sack, find the money, the good, the weapons. Everything had been lost because that hotshot lost his way, consumed in his quest. Blood dripped down his mask onto the floor. He had tried to help with guidance and goods only to have it thrown back into his face. Yet all he did was chuckle.

“Heh heh heh.” 

The package felt natural in his hand as he gripped on end, other hand on the ties keeping the cloth on. A smile curled wide under the already pseudo grin of his mask. Good to see you, old friend.

The Batter wandered around the still unpurified zone searching for only one. Elsen still went about their own lives, knowing to stay well away. The sack provided all he ever needed from weapons to items and after his plundering he had ripped it apart to find some sort of clue. Nothing. He entered buildings and houses, checking every corner. His searched failed to notice a mask watching him, eyes cold now with a shine of something more sinister than the Batter’s own twisted quest. The gaze followed him with its permanent expression. You are alone now. No allies, not one friend. Vulnerable.

He never saw it coming. A glint shone off the polished metal, reflecting whatever light remained in the derelict zone. The edge slashed across the Batter’s chest, the force and surprise knocking him down. Zacharie stood before him, eyes gazing through his mask. In his hand he gripped a broad, flat sword already stained with fresh blood.

“Hello, friend.” The point of the sword gestured at the stolen goods pouring out of the Batter’s pockets. “You are going to have to pay for that, I’m afraid.”

Zacharie knew the Batter was far from defeated. As soon as he saw a hand reach for the bat he struck first, kicking the downed man in the side again and again, ending with a stomp. The Batter curled under the assault, blood soaking into his white uniform.

“No. You are an evil spirit.”  
The Batter kicked out, rolling to get his bat. The Sword put a quick end to that, jabbing into flesh under the arm, preventing any more action. Zach chuckled and pulled the blade out only to drive it across the Batter’s back leaving a deep wound. The bat was kicked away.

Suffering from blood loss, the Batter twitched, weak and unable to defend himself. He flinched as the sword drove in to the ground inches from his head. Zacharie knelt down, rolling the Batter onto his back. Still the same determined face. The only change was the blood. He placed a leg on either side and leaned down, hands on the Batter’s face.

“And I want interest.”

The Batter, larger and stronger by all accounts now lay on the ground as fingers trailed down his neck. Strong hands ripped his collar and shirt open, continuing lower. Under his mask, Zach licked his lips. Such power and form to have wandered into this land. All the times he watched and waited, offering his services, getting closer. If the Batter wants to rush things that is fine with him. He could feel himself grow hotter, even more than the battle.

“Demon! I will purify you!”

The Batter struggled but found his wounds far too crippling. Zachs weight kept him down and hands on his own left him helpless.

“Purify ME?” Zacharie let out a needy exhale. “Heh heh heh. You should look at yourself, friend.”

Amused by the struggling, Zach pulled up his mask just to the mouth and leaned down to give a series of sloppy kisses on the Batter’s exposed neck. The taste hardened him at once, sweat mixed with blood and tense fear lingered on his tongue.

“I, I am pure! I am the Batter! I will purify this place!”

“Heh heh heh.”

Zacharie had near lost himself, removing his shirt over his shoulders. The mask stayed on but it did little to hide his heavy breathing. His occupation as a shop keeper did not hint as his physique. Warrior, wanderer, seeker of opportunity with a muscular body to match his exploits. Dark hair like that on his head dotted his chest and down to his growing pants. Sweat had already formed. Form under the mask Zach’s eyes narrowed, an insane grin hiding underneath. 

“When I’m done with you, you’ll never be pure again.”

Fruitless attempts followed from the Batter to stop his current reality. He lay on his back as hands pawed at him. Zach smelled of blood from the fight, his hair messy as it pressed into the Batter’s face. Unpure, disgusting spirit of darkness. He would not back away from his mission. Fingers trailed down his leg. A soft kiss graces his forehead. He had beaten this demon and taken his things yet there was no anger, only gentleness. The sword remained in the ground having done its job.

Lips met, Zacharie had lifted his mask again. The same taste of blood yet something else the Batter could not turn away from. A tongue drove against his, winding through his mouth, lips sucking. Zach let out a low moan, body shuddering on top of the Batter’s. It was his mission. He had to purify everything and specters fought him, attacked him, no one of them helped. But Zacharie did. He found himself returning the kiss, relaxing tense muscles. 

Zach grew more aggressive, kissing harder, hands gripping the Batter’s arms. Yet it always felt gentle. A demon with a sword who could easily kill him showing him tenderness he had not felt for decades. The Batter himself shook under the pleasure and raises his arms to pull Zacharie in further. From his neck that same chuckle he had heard hundreds of times breathed into his skin.

The hands slid down to his pants and Zach removed his weight leaving the Batter free to move again. Instead of fleeing he sat up and planted a tender kiss on the mouth of the mask, watching Zacharie’s eyes for the reaction. They widened, arms wrapping around the Batter’s waist. Cold metal pierced through his back, the spin severed leaving him limp, body falling against Zacharie. The sword now jutted from his back pouring out a gathering pool of blood. Mouth opened the Batter stammered but could not from the words.

“You are going to return everything you stole.” Zach rubbed the stunned man’s back. “Friend?”

All the Batter could manage was a nod. Zacharie rummaged through the Batter’s pocket and fished out a fortune ticket. The paper glowed faintly before fading into nothing. Injuries patched and blood returned. The Batter found himself sitting in Zacharie’s arms regaining strength.

“You.” The Batter caught his breath. “Are not a specter.”

His hat was removed as fingers pet his hair.

“Sorry to disappoint.”

They sat silently for a few moments.

“Maybe. Maybe there is something else.” The Batter looked around at the near drained world.

“Mors ultima linea rerum est.”

“Something else than purifying.”

The Batter rose, retrieving his weapon. He looked back at Zacharie as he still sat on the ground.

“I’m going to talk to my wife.”

“Heh heh heh.” Zach gave a short wave. “See you. Friend.”


End file.
